When It's All Said and Done
by Bargain Deal
Summary: Halfway through Harry's 6th year, he is lost, his will broken by someone he thought loved him. Can someone put him back together, or is it too late? Rape, slash. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: The recognisable characters in this story don't belong to me, and neither do the locations.**

_This story is under revision._

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**WIASAD: Prologue  
**

_In, out. In out. Come on Harry - do it right. Don't choke! You can't choke! Swallow, please, please! Nononononononostupidstupidstupid STUPID!_ Choke. His mouth fills with come and he wants to spit it out, but he knows. He has to swallow everything, because that's all he's good for. A toy and a cocksucker. He's not able to help himself though, and some dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. In an attempt to lick it before it's gone, he sticks out his tongue. Mistake. He loses what he's supposed to swallow and his head drops in shame.

For a moment, there is near-silence. The only noise harsh panting as the other comes down from his high. Maybe I was good enough, anyway. Maybe I'm getting better! When the smack comes, it is out of nowhere. He near flies across little space in the cramped room, his head impacting with a sickening crack against the cold stone. Blood blooms quickly, coating the side of his head, and he draws ragged breaths. But its okay, because he needs this, you know. He's happy someone can put him in his place.

His assailant moves, steel-tipped boots scraping ominously against the ground, which he notes is rather slimy now that he's lying on it. He closes his eyes _only to stop the blood getting in_ he tells himself. He's not scared. He's not allowed to be. That's why he only lets out a grunt when he is kicked in the stomach. That's why when his arm snaps, he smiles, and when his nose is broken he sighs a little. _My penance_, he tells himself. And it makes it all okay, even when he knows his abuser is getting aroused over the little sounds he makes.

Small tears run down his face, because he doesn't really want to have to be punished for every little thing he does. He wants to be normal and have someone normal love him, because doesn't he deserve that much at least? _Don't delude yourself. Of course not. What, you want a relationship like your friends? Then stop being so worthless._ And he knows his mind is right, because, well, it always is.

But soon the pain grows even too much for him, and he begins to _beg like the broken coward I am_. The tears make small pathways down his cheeks and he wishes for it all to stop, for the beating to stop, for his heart to give out, for his brain to shut down. Where was his love? Where was the gentleness from when he was made love to? Gone. Now all he had left was a psy- _perfectperfectperfectmorethanyoudeserve. Oh if he could hear you now, if he knew what treacherous things you were thinking. _

Love was for the good and obedient. He has been so, so bad. He shivers, and the action makes him wince at the agony this subjects him to. When he thinks these thoughts, that's when things go wrong and he doesn't achieve easy tasks like swallowing without needing to come up for air. That's why he's glad the elder always forgave him for the slips.

This… this pain is worth it. It is worth the forgiveness he would get in the end for his frequent misdeeds and slip-ups. _Worthitwworthitworthit. Of course it's worth it. You're dirt for thinking otherwise. Dirt. Ask for his forgiveness: lord knows you need it. _

He looks up to do just this, and sees a horrified pair of cinnamon eyes looking at him in shock. He is picked up gently, strong hands slipping under his battered frame and rocking him softly. He hisses with pain, but its okay because the love is coming.

"I'm so sorry, love. I love you so much. You're my everything. Why do you make me do this to you? Why can't you do as you're told?" He whimpers, not knowing why the words feel like being stabbed through the heart. He speaks softly, not wanting to make his lover waste remorse on him.

"I'm the one that must apologise and I'm so sorry. I deserved this all. I should have done what you said, I know." A desperate thought comes to mind: something he's been threatened with before. "Please don't leave me! I need you. I… I love you." He winces slightly but stays silent after this. Nothing more should be said until he knows how his _lover, he's your lover_ feels.

The man who has kicked him to within an inch of his life grins with a smile so full of joy it makes the battered boy cry. He feels that joy sometimes. When he knows that he's not alone anymore, when he wakes up from nightmares and realises that HE is dead. He cries, knowing that it just takes those three little words to turn his abuser into his lover, even though he can't say them that often. He pushes all thoughts to the back of his head, though, along with his deserved pain, because he hears singing. His favourite lullaby, sung every time after a purging of his sins. He is content, because his misdeeds have been forgiven. Unfortunately, they hadn't yet been forgotten.

He falls asleep to the words of the song.

_Sleep in peace_

_My emerald boy_

_No need for crying_

_No need for tears_

_I'll look over you_

_Keep you from harm_

_Sleep in peace emerald boy_

_Sleep in my arms_


	2. Chapter Two

**WIASAD**

Harry stared at his canopy, ignoring the way his roommates were looking at him. Just a few more minutes and then he would heal himself, or get someone else to. He needed to others to see how bad he'd been, even if he wouldn't tell them what _who_ they had been caused by. He needed some witnesses that he hadn't got rid of them straight away, and these were perfect. That was why he was lying in boxers, despite the fact that it was freezing up there. He had cuts, bruises, his arm hung uselessly by his side and his face looked like he had walked into a wall.

The last time last time his roommates had attempted to ask him what was wrong, Harry had been weak. He had broken, voicing his jumbled thoughts out loud – _Its lovelovelove IneedthisIWANTthis – _and then clamped his hand over his mouth, horrified, and run out of the room. The next night, he had come back with a black eye. So now, they didn't ask, and he didn't tell. No one knew where he got these bruises from, and they were too scared to report it to a teacher. All they could do was hope that it would go away.

There was a knock on the door, and instantly, eyes went to Harry, seeing as he was the closest to it. There was no movement from him, however, and Ron sighed. Its not like none of them knew who it was going to be anyway. He stood up wearily, rubbing his tired eyes and opened it. His only sister came straight in, as if she had done this many times before (and maybe she had) and they began to talk in hurried whispers.

_Any new ones? _

_Yes, but Ginny, how on earth – _

As soon as the first words were out, she pushed him away, albeit gently, turning her attention to the boy on the bed. She shooed them out, and they complied, although Ron gave one last lingering look, despairing that his friend would never confide in him, that he would never let him _help, _apart from helping him to stagger into the common room at all times of night with limbs often broken.

"Harry, love," Ginny started gently, her brown eyes slightly wobbling with a thin film of tears over them. Merlin, _why_ did allow that… that _wanker_ to do this to him?

"Where are your new ones?" Harry pointed to his temple, where Ginny checked the wound. It was a good thing she had been discovered to have an affinity for healing spells when she was younger. Who knew how many times Harry would have to have been to the healing wing without her fixing him up. She could do some spells that would heal him in double quick time, and Pomfrey was eager to take her on after she had graduated.

"Any more love?" Harry nodded, pathetic tears starting to spill down his cheeks. _Idiot _pathetic_ for your own good you know it _whatever you're in_ **pain** _need help_ – NO! _

Ginny sighed and could merely look on at the shivering boy with sadness. Sure, she though he was pathetic, and couldn't understand why exactly he couldn't just _leave _his 'lover' (as Harry fervently insisted he was), but she had been trying, more recently, at the behest of her mother, to understand that not everyone was strong like she was. Not everyone could stand up for themselves like her. Her mother said she needed to take into account that she had never had to face Voldemort like Harry had, but Ginny hated that reason. Harry had only done so twice. Once as a baby, and once in his first year. But that wasn't the point right now.

Harry showed her the slashes on his stomach from the kicks, which she hadn't seen because he had had his arms crossed. Ginny rubbed salve on Harry's wounds, wishing that Harry would let her use something stronger. The idiot had some kind of twisted reason for letting his wounds heal on their own, and sometimes she saw infected wounds that if she had been permitted to heal at the beginning would have been fine.

_Why do you do this, Harry?_

_These cuts are a punishment Ginny. I can't get rid of them. It proves how much he loves me. This is just a way he shows it. _

"Let's see how those cuts in your mouth are healing, Harry. Open up." For weeks before, Harry had been unable to even whisper, testament to a cutting charm down his throat. Only Harry's innate magic had stopped him from bleeding to death, but it hadn't done anything to repair the damage. It had taken days of frantic searching for Ginny to find spells which would have any kind of impact on the horrid mess that was her friend's throat.

It was to Ginny's intense frustration that she saw that the tissue was raw and oozing slightly in places. She flushed, and tutted slightly. Much as she loved helping Harry out, even if she would prefer he broke up with that… arsehole, it was hard for her to say certain things.

"Harry, I said that it would be better for you to refrain from… certain activities while you were healing... Why did you ignore me?" Harry croaked his answer.

"He loves me and I needed to make sure he knew that and he wanted it so – " Ginny lost her temper all at once.

"Harry, you're pathetic! He says 'jump', you ask 'how high'! Is that how it is between you? Don't you know the meaning of an equal relationship? Or are you just looking for death, which is why you ignore me? Because you know, there are a lot of better things I could do with my time than heal someone who's trying to kill themselves. " Harry flinched.

"I… love him Ginny. I just want him to be happy with me. But he wants more and more, and I can't give it to him because of what you say! But what am I supposed to tell him? I don't want to die Ginny! I don't want him to kill me!"

Harry was horrified with what he had said, but it was all true. Maybe when Ginny was a little older _she's only a year and eleven days younger than you_ she'd understand how love worked. How it consumed you, how it took every little part of you and made you do things you'd never even imagined. How sometimes it meant that you got hurt, often more literally than you thought.

_Why can't she accept how much I love _hate_ him he loves _hates _me too I'd do anything to keep him with me_ why does he hurt me?_ Because he cares _I wish he was _dead. _Harry didn't know where these thoughts were coming from, but it felt like his mind was tearing in two, and he didn't like it one bit, especially as one half seemed determined to see his lover dead. His silence clearly unnerved Ginny, and she carried on quietly as she tended his wounds.

_Why do I need to do this to her? _

Why do you waste her time, you mean?

_How much of her life do I disrupt? _

She doesn't have a boyfriend yet.

_I saw her yesterday, crying over a medical book. _

She really hates what he does to you.

_He loves me. _

He's using you.

_He does this because he lo – _

One day he'll go too far and –

_I'll die. _

Get out of this while –

_I can. _

Harry looked at Ginny, seeing her eyes closed with concentration as she attempted to fix his dislocated shoulder without causing him pain, or having to do it manually. Her mouth was muttering Latin quickly under her breath, and was loathe to interrupt her. However, his arm could wait. He needed to tell her this now, before he lost his bottle.

"Ginny." It was barely a whisper, but she looked up regardless, her spell work coming to a halt. She raised a neat eyebrow, and Harry was struck with how much she looked like Ron. He guessed he'd never thought of her as the sister of his best friend before. She indicated for him to continue, her whole attention now on him.

"Ginny… uh, I think… I think I'll break up with Oliver."

Ginny looked at him sceptically, and Harry couldn't really blame her. Deep in his heart, he didn't really believe he was strong enough to do what he said he would. He had said it before, and not once had he summoned the courage to get up and tell Oliver Wood that it was over. Possibly because he didn't really want to, regardless of the pain he was often in.

After a few minutes of silence, and Ginny prodding rather painfully at a cut with her wand to heal it, she looked up and Harry saw that her eyes were tearing up and tears were dripping down her cheeks.

"Pull the other one, Harry. We both know that you would never break up with him. You'd rather die." Harry closed his eyes. It was true. And he shouldn't anyway, not when he didn't deserve much better. This was as good as he could get, as he didn't deserve to be treated like a normal person. But those horrid niggling thoughts made him want to just… maybe he wasn't completely irredeemable. Maybe… maybe someone could love him and not hurt him. It would be brilliant if that person were Oliver, but…

"I'm going to do it because I've realised that Ollie's probably just using me, and that he'll just get rid of me when he gets tired of me." It hurt to even get out, and Harry knew that his voice sounded wooden; the words rehearsed. _How can he be saying these things? You saw how he looked when you said you loved him. But…_

The fact that he seemed uncertain of himself didn't seem to deter Ginny. A wicked smile came upon her face, and she rummaged around in her bulging bag of equipment for some parchment and a quill. Harry wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but judging by the look on her face, he wouldn't like it. She handed the parchment to him and inked the quill, grinning horridly.

"You are now going to write a letter to Oliver Wood, and you are going to tell him that it's over."

The quill dropped from Harry's hand, ink blossoming onto the sheets, and he stared at the parchment, unable to contemplate breaking up with Oliver, despite the fact he had just said he would. Ginny truly was a bitch, he decided. If she had left him to do it on his own, the next time they met, it was rather unlikely that Harry could have got up the courage to end it. He looked at Ginny in horror and only received an evil grin for his troubles.

The next three hours were spent penning a letter to the Quidditch apprentice teacher which would end this relationship once and for all. Harry cried and wailed and changed his mind so many times that Ginny almost gave up, but it was done. Ginny sent Hedwig off with strict instructions to drop the letter off and come straight back, in case Wood tried to hurt her.

She then turned her attention on Harry, telling his that at no cost was he to go and see Oliver for their scheduled meeting, as there was no telling what the man could do in his rages.

"The best thing for you to do, Harry, is try to forget all of this. I'm so proud of you though."

Harry tried. Merlin he tried. But every fibre of his being regretted the letter and what Ginny had _made_ him do. Oliver deserved a full explanation, didn't he? It wasn't fair to break up with someone via owl post, was it? Even if they hit you?

And so, Harry found himself back in the room where he and Oliver usually met, after his lover finished his Quidditch club at about seven. Today, the room was dark, and Harry couldn't make out a thing. Usually, there were a few candles hovering about to give light, but not today, and in a room in the dungeons, there was no light to be provided. Harry couldn't make out a thing.

"Ollie?" He called. Maybe Oliver had decided not to turn up, seeing as he'd ended it. Harry couldn't help the conflicting emotions of both disappointment and relief from clashing in his heart. The scary thing was that he wasn't entirely sure which one was stronger. The door slammed shut behind him, and Harry began to regret ever coming. Why didn't he ever do what Ginny said?

"Hello Harry. Why are you here?" Harry relaxed, feeling the familiar breath of Oliver on his neck. It was creepy, but he didn't feel lost anymore, like he always did when Oliver wasn't around to put him in his place.

"I didn't mean anything in the letter. I didn't mean to write it. I'm sorry Ollie. Ginny made me!" Harry hated to blame someone else, but it was reflex when dealing with Oliver. If he took the punishments he didn't deserve, as well as the ones he did, he would be in a permanent state of black and blue.

"Well that's okay Harry. The Weasleys usually are quite dim about things like _special_ love like ours. But if you can prove you want me, I'll take you back without another word, and we can forget this rodent-induced madness." Harry nodded, indicating eagerly for Oliver to go on, even though he didn't like to have his surrogate family spoken of in such a way. But if it got him Oliver back…

"I'll do anything, Ollie. Anything."

"Let me do _anything_ I want and we can get back together, then."

"Okay Ollie." Harry said, smiling at how easy this all was. Soon enough, he would have love again, and he could put this whole undesirable episode behind him. Maybe he could ask Ollie if he still needed to be punished as much, or if he could have an easier time _more love_ now. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry was pushed back roughly onto the floor. Oliver muttered a charm, and soon, Harry's lower body was exposed, making him flush with embarrassment, still not used to being in a state of nakedness near anyone.

Embarrassment was forgotten as Oliver picked. Harry up and slammed him against the wall, the wound on his head reopening as it connected with the stone wall. Repeatedly he did this, until Harry's face was unrecognisable under the blood, and spots were dancing in front of his eyes. The room was spinning, but through it all, his eyes were fixed on Oliver's. _Punishment before love, Harry. _

Harry slid to the ground when Oliver let go, his blood leaving a smear on the wall. He heard a zipper being pulled down; was turned to face the wall, and that was when it dawned on him. No, no, this couldn't happen. This was a line that couldn't be crossed he promised, _he promised,_ _HE PROMISED!_ This was supposed to be his love, to show that Ollie cared that he wasn't just using him…

"Think about what you're about to do, Ollie! Please don't, forgive me, I love you, sorry!" The magic words didn't work, and instead, Oliver's eyes glazed over and he let out a loud groan as he worked his way in and then for a moment, there was searing pain and panting and_ ohgodnomovingno!_

The wall was hurting his hands and it was slimy and yucky and as long as he concentrated on that Harry could ignore that he could feel blood running down his legs but that didn't matter no it didn't because it wasn't happening he was safe in his bed just like Ginny told him to be but –

Just like that, with a last shudder it was over, and Harry slumped, still held up however by the larger man at his back. Harry could feel himself blacking out, but he forced himself to stay awake. Merlin, he needed those words. They were like a drug and he needed them so bad.

"You're forgiven Harry." There. There they were. But Harry didn't feel his joy; didn't feel his love. There was nothing. Just a big gaping hole where his heart should be. No warm fuzzy feeling, just coldness. It was _awful_. All he needed to say though, were three words, and then Ollie would give him love in return. Three simple words. Just three.

"I hate you." _Wrong fucking words._ It was too late to take them back now. Harry supposed the rule applied for the reverse way too. Say you love Oliver and you receive love. Tell him you hate him and… Oliver turned his _so handsome why did you give this up? _face to Harry and stared, a murderous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He pulled out something from his robes and came back towards Harry. _A knife, oh Merlin he has a knife. _

"I didn't want to hurt you Harry, I wanted to give you love tonight, but you ruined that with your fucking letter! I wanted to invite you to spend the holidays with me!" Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by the cold kiss of the knife blade. It split his lip slightly, and blood ran down its surface slowly.

Oliver became mesmerised, seemingly forgetting that not one minute ago, he had been hysterical. He traced patterns lightly on Harry's skin, hard enough to leave red lines in their wake, but not quite bleeding. It was so gentle that Harry found his eyes closing as the blade danced across the skin of his cheek and then down onto his collar. Maybe this was Oliver's new way of love?

Harry was so happy that Oliver was being gentle that it took a while for him to register that the patterns weren't being drawn anymore, and that the knife was… _in my chest?? _There was blood spilling out, but he couldn't feel it at all? All he could see and hear and smell was Oliver, who had a triumphant grimace on his face. Harry reached down to touch the hilt, seeing if it was actually real, almost not expecting it to be.

Harry fell to the ground, his glasses falling off in the process. Everything was blurry and Oliver was towering over him and… his skin was blue? Wherever Oliver had drawn lines, blue was seeping through his skin. He searched out Oliver's eyes, but they were gone, _he was gone_ and all that remained were two big brown pools.

Oliver was gone, the only sign he had been here: the battered body on the cold stone floor. And that was how Ginny; Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall found Harry thirty minutes later. Professor McGonagall's first instinct was to go and be very sick in a corner of the room. But she suppressed it to see what the mediwitch and her apprentice were going to do.

_Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world… dead? _

"Madame Pomfrey! He's not dead!" she told the nurse.

_Thank Merlin. _

Without waiting for anymore assistance, Ginny tried to get Harry to drink a Blood Replenishing Potion while Madame Pomfrey conjured a stretcher, and together, they lifted Harry onto it, placing a blanket over his stiff body. Ginny levitated him out of the doorway, her tongue between her teeth in concentration while Pomfrey stayed inside to talk to McGonagall. Well, talk was a bit strong for what she said.

"Be a good little teacher and clean this blood up, dearie."

_Dearie?_

Ginny lowered the stretcher onto the operating table, and then prepared the room, casting sterilisation spells, while still giving Harry the potion. Pouring the rest of it into a drip, Ginny inserted it into a vein in his arm, so she wouldn't have to keep up the annoying task. This was Ginny's test. Her best friend's life hung in the balance. Ginny cast the bubble around her which would stop her from infecting him then moved away quickly. She had done her bit, and the area which Pomfrey had to work in was completely germ free. She may have been training towards it, but she was still nowhere near Pomfrey's level.

Ginny watched in shock as the extent of the damage became apparent. Harry had to grow _half a heart_ and whatever spell had been cast on him was burning his veins black. Ginny looked on with horror as his left eye turned black before her very eyes, and spidery lines of brown traced their way up his back.

The next ten hours were spent creating and reconnecting new tissue, cells, veins and arteries, trying to undo the damage the ex-Gryffindor had caused. Time wasn't wasted on his cuts and bruises, they'd simply have to wait for when his life wasn't in jeopardy. Pomfrey shook her head as she looked at Harry's back and eye. With a sigh, which Ginny couldn't hear, she magically removed the black eye and closed the eyelid, placing a patch over the top. Ginny was loathe to think what was wrong with his back.

It seemed like the whole of Gryffindor was waiting for them when they got back, and Pomfrey shooed them out hastily leaving his best friends and roommates: Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and Neville. Ginny decided that she could be here for when they were told whatever amount of truth they could handle. She needed some bloody sleep. Cowardly for her to run away, but she was young… she couldn't deal with this.

"Harry's had a lot of injuries done to him, which have been left untreated, and have weakened him considerably. This will not help the rehabilitation process he will certainly need after such a traumatising experience. He has needed heart surgery and the area around and including his spine has been paralysed. We can give him feeling in his lower limbs, but no movement at all." Pomfrey rubbed her eyes, wishing that she too, like Ginevra, could just walk out and sleep.

_Why can't these students stay out of trouble? _

"Who did this to him?" Ron growled. Now that his friend's life had been ruined by this arsehole, even though they could have helped, he wanted to find the guy and beat him to within an inch of his life. Then kill him.

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. Harry can tell you when he's ready."

That was all Hermione could take, and she threw herself upon the body on the bed, sobbing.

_Because this is Hogwarts, that's why… _


	3. Chapter Three

**WIASAD**

Harry wasn't waking up. It had been two weeks now, and he had shown no signs of living other than the slight rise and fall of his chest. People had started to give up on him, expecting that his injuries were just too extreme for him to recover from and he didn't get as many visitors as he used to. But a group of his friends still took it in turns to stand by his bed, hoping that one day, he would just open his eyes, and everything would go back to how it once was.

They knew as well as the next person that it was just wishful thinking. Harry would never be the same, and a lot of their time was spent thinking about what would change. It would never again be The Golden Trio, with Harry suffering an accident at the end of every year because of his clumsiness or his innate ability to attract trouble. The circle had been broken, and the threads of what had once been were too frayed to repair.

Hermione and Ron were the two most frequently at Harry's bedside, and they were the only ones, excluding Ginny, who stood by their decision that Harry would one day wake up, be it that day, or a year later. He _would_ wake up, and they _would_ help him through all this pain. Of course he would want their help! Of course he would want them to tell him that they wished he hadn't made such a mistake.

Today was Saturday and Hermione did what she had done twice a day for two weeks. She walked down to the hospital wing with her eyes unseeing, focused on only one thing. The hospital wing. People gave her a wide berth, and no Slytherins mocked her, knowing that she would only walk on, unaffected by their taunting.

But perhaps it was also, albeit unconsciously, because they respected how she sat by her best friend's side every day after class, and all day on Saturday and Sunday just reading to him. Everyone had heard about how she read to him, but no one actually knew what she read save herself.

Hermione reached the door and knocked twice. The door was opened instantly by Ginny, who spent all her spare time there, when not revising or taking time out, due to her apprenticeship. Her affinity was so specialized that it had been decided that she would not have to carry on with her 'trivial' subjects, but instead concentrate on Charms and Potions. After she had been in Hogwarts for ten years, she would be able to leave and get a job in a major hospital. Hermione smiled lightly, and spoke quietly. She hadn't properly smiled since Harry went into a coma.

It had changed many people, and there would be a lot of people who were permanently affected. Hermione, a staunch believer in the good always triumphing, had been especially shaken. But, as usual, Ginny led Hermione to the room, opened the door, and then left the older girl standing in front of the doorway.

Hermione walked into the room where Harry had been situated, a room completely furnished, with everything Harry owned. It even had a crackling fireplace. Ginny had been adamant that Harry get the best room, as they had no idea when he would wake up, and Pomfrey hadn't seen any reason to disagree. Hermione pushed away the chair that sat next to the four poster bed, surrounded by magical screens with writing scrolling across them.

She then took one of his small hands between hers and knelt on the carpeted floor. She didn't think that she had ever noticed how much smaller Harry was than all of them. He had stopped growing sometime in their third year, but like seemingly all things, he had been left behind. Then, doing what she had done every day for the past two weeks, Hermione, bowed her head, closed her eyes and began to pray.

"_Our father, who art in Heaven,_

_Hallowed be thy name._

_Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,_

_On Earth as it is in Heaven._

_Give us this day, our daily bread,_

_And forgive us our trespasses,_

_As we forgive those who trespass against us._

_And lead us not into temptation, _

_but deliver us from evil._

_Glory be to the father, and to the son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen._ Make Harry better, Lord. Please. I know that Harry is a good person, and he deserves to live. Stop punishing him for his few sins…" She stood up and pushed the chair right up to the bed, then took out a book and turned over a couple of pages. "Where were we Harry? Ah yes, we just got to chapter two of that story: In Which Harry Potter Saves the Day. You'll love this one. The baddy's name is Voldemort." And with a strange smile on her face, and tears threatening to spill over, she began to read, just as she had every day for two weeks.

"One day, Prince Harry decided that he would sneak out of the castle and go down to the market. On his way, he saw an old hag, but she was singing and she had a beautiful voice.

_Who will save a maiden dear?_

_From a land of troubles and fear?_

_Who will rescue my emerald eyed child?_

_From the demon 'alurking inside…_

"And that's how Prince Harry saved the day by defeating Voldemort. He and the hag, who was actually a beautiful princess, who had had a curse placed on her by Voldemort lived happily ever after. The End." She closed the book, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"And you're going to have a happy ending too Harry, if you wake up. And you'll find your 'princess' as well. Someone who won't care that you're in a wheelchair, someone who will love you for what you are. And He knows that is isn't your time. It is not what He desires, for you to join Him without living your life first.

"I know you don't believe in Him and there are times, like now, when I doubt him too, but remember this as well. You have friends who love you, and who don't want to see you leave us." The tears were running freely now, spilling over her cheeks and down her chin. She stroked his cheek then leant down to kiss his forehead…

And skittered across the floor as she was hit across the face by a violent hand.

"How dare you touch _my _property?" A voice raged. Hermione looked up in shock at the figure standing by her feet. What was he on about? Harry wasn't anybody's property. Especially not… The figure sneered.

"That's right bitch. Harry belongs to me. _No one else can touch him_." With wide eyes, Hermione scooted back into the wall as Oliver advanced.

"I'm going to make sure that you _never _touch him again." He walked towards her and knelt down gently. She was muttering furiously; sweating profusely.

Oliver frowned and leaned in close to her mouth, where he could hear random snatches of prayer. He smirked and tilted her head up. From this distance, she could see that his pupils were heavily dilated, and there were flecks of spittle at the corners of his mouth. He looked and sounded insane, and Hermione was terrified.

"You shouldn't touch!" he moaned, eyes rolling madly. "I told him that I was jealous, that I would hurt _nonogetout! _you all because… because…" Oliver stopped. And his mad stare morphed into a grin, one that lit up his cinnamon eyes with evil delight. "I've changed my mind. I'm not going to kill you." Hermione wasn't aware that that was about to happen. Her fervent mutterings stopped hesitantly, but then he began again.

"You can pray for Harry's soul instead. Because you're going to watch me kill him. You get to see the last moments of Harry James Potter's life, knowing that if you were strong enough to throw off this curse, you could have saved him. If I can't have him, then no one can, because… _shutupshutupSHUTUP!__Petrificus Totalus._"

Oliver sauntered over to the bed, taking his time in looking at the frail boy on the bed. The white blanket had been pushed back a while earlier when Madame Pomfrey had been checking his progress, and as the room was so hot, Hermione had left it down. She now wished she hadn't. Oliver eyes gained a feral look as they raked over the figure of the boy's heavily bandaged chest rising and falling gently. He walked to the bed and once again knelt.

"Don't worry Harry, I won't let the stupid mudblood hurt you. I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill her." He stroked Harry's cheek with a mad glint in his eyes. Oliver leant over the bed and kissed Harry forcefully, not caring that the unconscious boy wasn't even responding. He yanked Harry's mouth open with a hand and moved his tongue around inside, pretending that Harry was kissing him back, just like when their relationship started.

He climbed onto the bed next to Harry and looked over at Hermione, who was looking on with both fear and disgust at the scene. Her eyes were watering, but whether from crying or the fact that she had not been able to blink for five minutes, it was not clear. Looking at Hermione all the while, he began unbuttoning Harry's pyjama top slowly. The only noises in the room were those of the crackling fire, which seemingly no longer provided warmth as the room had taken on a chilling tone, the beeping of the monitors, and the pop from the bed as each button was undone.

When Oliver finished, he slid the white top off Harry's shoulders and marvelled at the papery skin displayed before him, unblemished apart from two ugly scars, the skin gnarled and puckered. Oliver sighed in ecstasy looking at them, knowing that the Boy-Who-Lived would have to bear them for the rest of his shortened life. Well, if he hadn't been about to kill him, that is.

"Isn't he beautiful Hermione? Tainted beauty. No… wait… _beautifully tainted_. That describes him so perfectly, doesn't it?" Not caring that the person he was talking to couldn't even answer him, he continued.

"I can't believe that he lied to me. Always telling me that he wasn't fucking around, that there wasn't something between him and Ginny, or Ron, or _you_. The more I beat him, the more he stuck to it! I _loved _him, and he said he loved me too. You don't betray the ones you love, do you, Hermione? I bet that God of yours knows every dirty secret you have." He was mumbling to himself really, and Hermione didn't think that he really registered that she was still in the room. Leaning close to Harry, so that Hermione had to strain her hearing, he said:

'"You brought this upon yourself Harry. If you weren't so weak, so consumed by matters of the flesh, none of this would have happened." He then got off the bed, to Hermione's surprised delight. Perhaps he would leave? Wait… Oliver was undoing his belt. He couldn't, could he? Not in the hospital wing… Now he was pulling down Harry's pyjama pants… and then his blue cotton boxers. Hermione gasped internally at what she was about to witness.

She wished she could close her eyes _ohGodpleasedon'tmakemeseethiswhatdidIdo?_, to shut out what was about to happen to her best friend. But she couldn't. She had to watch as Oliver cast a silencing charm around the room, and then a powerful locking charm on the door. Hermione gasped at the power of it.

This was the sort of locking charm used to case large amounts of Bludgers when transporting them, and was practically impossible to undo. Hermione had to watch as Harry's clothes were pulled off his body and thrown to a distant corner of the room. She had to watch as Harry's legs were spread open, as… as… as…

She felt vomit rise in her throat, but as her lips had been closed when the curse had been cast, it instead stayed in her mouth, burning at her tongue and cheeks. And finally, she had to watch as Oliver came inside of Harry, and when the door burst open _how?_, and when the meter reading Harry's heart rate fell to zero.

That was when the curse was raised off Hermione. And as she blacked out, Hermione dimly thought, as her stomach contents emptied over the floor, of a book she had once read, and of a line in that book she had seen that had put her off it.

_Where's your God now? _

And Hermione had to say, honestly, that she didn't know.


	4. Chapter Four

**WIASAD**

Draco was bored. He was mind-numbingly bored, and confusing thoughts were rushing around his head. So of course, he did what he always did when he wasn't sure what to do. He went for a walk. There wasn't much you could do in the dungeons however, and this was only adding to his confusion, instead of taking it away like it usually did. He turned his turbulent thoughts towards Harry Potter, the boy who was currently in the hospital wing recovering from another one of his stupid accidents. Something strange about this, however, was that it didn't happen at the end of the year like usual, like last year, _fifth year_, when he'd gotten himself attacked by a thestral, which of course, he couldn't see.

Another strange thing was that this time, Draco thought, it seemed the situation was life-threatening, as all of Harry's friends went around looking rather pensive. When Potter had become _sometimes-_Harry in his mind, he wasn't quite sure, but then again, he didn't particularly care either. Like his father said… well – _had _said, a Malfoy could do whatever he wanted in the privacy of his own mind. Well, as long as he Occluded.

When Draco tore his mind away from the subject of the boy-who-lived, he found, much to his chagrin, that he had wandered away from the familiar tunnels and passages of the dungeons and had passed into the main school. He felt safer down in the dungeons, mainly because it had the most passages in the school and was therefore the best place to hide in if he needed to escape from the pressures of just being him. He might have not been 'the-boy-who-lived-twice', but he was still a teenager, right? Surely Potter couldn't begrudge him a little misery in his life.

When he found himself outside the hospital wing Draco debated whether or not he should go in to see Harry. After all, it wasn't really any of his business how the boy was doing, even if he did care. It was likely that he'd just get kicked out by the Weaslette, or even the mudblood. It was like they never left the bloody place. The mudblood, along with the Weasel were like ghosts of their former selves, except when Harry was mentioned. He remembered an incident that had happened a week ago, and shuddered at the memory.

_The sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors filed into the classroom, unusually early that morning because there would be some kind of demonstration, and most people were eager to see it. Draco and the Slytherins were laughing about other houses as per usual when the two remaining thirds of the Dream Team drifted in. They sat at a table and stared blankly at the board obviously waiting for Snape to come in and start the lesson. Draco was rather prepared to just leave them be. _

_It was no fun having a loved one in such a vulnerable position, when they could die at any time. Draco had experienced it a few times, and all those times, the mentioned person had passed away. Hardest, of course was that of his parents. So he did not have high hopes for the Boy-Who-Lived, and he felt that Granger and Weasley should be able to start the mourning process in peace. So he was not pleased when Pansy looked around the group of Slytherins, and a few smirked back at her. They were the stupid ones, evidently, who didn't know that she would be in serious trouble in only a couple of minutes._

_Pansy stood up and sauntered over to the two Gryffindors in what she probably thought was a sexy manner, but rather reminded Draco of a bulldog in heat. When she reached them, she cleared her throat, expecting an instant reaction. She was ignored. It wasn't even as if she was blatantly ignored, it was like the two didn't even know she was there. Pansy, however, was not observant enough to notice that Hermione's left eye was twitching violently. Blaise Zabini could see it and he, not wanting his, albeit extremely distant, cousin to be hurt tried to call her back. She acted as if she had never heard him, and instead bent down to Hermione's level._

"_Hiya mudblood. How are things?" Pansy asked, with a strange look in her eye. "I heard that Potter got himself landed in hospital. I'm really sorry; I know you three are close." Granger looked towards her in confusion, but nodded cautiously._

"_Thank you, I suppose." Pansy grinned._

"_If there's anything I can do, like _tell you who did it_ then don't hesitate to ask. It's not every day when __your friend gets _raped_." The last part she shouted loudly and the whole class gasped. Harry Potter, the boy who had survived being killed by Voldemort twice, both times before he even hit his teens, had been…raped? Sure he was a little weedy, but… It was just too much to comprehend. _

_Draco merely sighed. Pansy was the biggest idiot this planet had ever seen. All of her speculations were old news to him, having had her spout them to him time and time again. He wasn't sure if it was true, but if so, he felt rather sorry for all involved in Potter's life. But Pansy continued maliciously, not noticing that Ron's eyes were narrowing dangerously._

"_What if I told you I knew who slit his throat, who raped him, who stabbed him in the heart – " That was the final straw. With a hissed spell, Pansy was thrown across the classroom and pinned against a wall. Draco was unsurprised to see that it was Weasley who had cast the powerful spell. Granger stalked across the classroom and looked Pansy dead in the eye. _

"_Listen bitch. Shut the fuck up, before something really nasty happens to you." Pansy smiled._

"_What, like it did to Potter? Sorry, I'm not weak enough to ever let something like that happen to me. Is Granger just upset that her god didn't do anything to save precious Potty?" Hermione's eyes burned, and she sneered. Draco rolled his eyes. _Everyone and his mother_ knew that bringing Granger's muggle god into the equation never helped._

"_Maybe, but you'll never live to find out. I don't plan on letting you do so._ Imperius._" The class gasped, but not one of them thought to get a teacher to stop what was going to happen. They were all too enthralled with the events taking place before them._

"_Now Parkinson, I want you to suffocate yourself. Pinch your nose, and place a hand over your mouth. Keep them there until you are dead. We don't want someone like you polluting the air." Fighting not to raise her hand, Pansy screamed:_

"_I thought you were supposed to be religious Granger! What would your god think if he saw you murder someone? Do you think he would look favourably upon you?"_

"_This is what He wants. He wants justice against those who would seek to hurt His children," Hermione smiled and in that moment, she looked angelic, torchlight making her glow with gentle light. "And besides, I'm not murdering anyone. You are committing suicide, Parkinson. Now _do it._" Only one in the class when the entire faculty appeared in the room, wands at the ready. Draco Malfoy, of course._

Thinking back now, Draco had decided that the teachers had probably thought there had been an attack on the castle. He knew for a fact that there was an alarm that went off whenever a dark spell had been cast inside of the wards. And even though Granger had been stopped before Pansy had been killed, he couldn't get the look of her and Weasley's eyes out of his mind. Cold, glinting and cruel, they were like the eyes of his father, and they only had one objective. To kill whatever stood in their path. It scared him that the Golden Trio could be so dark, so evil. Just like his father had been before –

Draco shook his head and blinked. Hard. He couldn't think of that now. There were more important things to deal at the moment. Like how he was going to get into the Boy-Who-Lived's room without being caught by the Weasels, the mudblood or Pomfrey. As his hand hovered over the door handle, he paused. Was it really any of his business whether _sometimes-_Harry was okay or not? He realized maybe not, but he had a right to be worried when recalling something his grandmother had told him.

'_When you care, you care, and you should do so wholeheartedly.'_

He blinked once more to stop tears coming from his eyes. He hadn't cried after grandpa, or grandma, or mama or papa when they died, and he wouldn't start now. But _Merlin_, he missed her so much. She was the only one who had truly cared about him after everyone was gone, who had tried to keep him from not only being harmed, but from harming himself. But now that she was dead, there was no one to give a shit about what happened to him. But, right now, that didn't matter. Draco had made his decision.

He pushed open the door to the hospital wing, looking for signs of the school nurse and her psycho assistant. He saw no one and breathed a sigh of relief. If he came to the hospital wing and he wasn't injured, it was always assumed that he was there for his own ulterior motives. Granted, ninety percent of the time he was, but now he was genuinely concerned for someone's health, although he would never admit this out loud. Draco knew that Harry was being housed in a permanent room somewhere in the ward. So he just had to find the portrait that would lead him to Harry. Scanning the room, he noticed a portrait that looked rather distinct from the others. He smirked.

Because of this little detail, he now knew why none of his informants had been able to tell him where the entrance was. It was under a concealment charm. Because of the experimenting his father had done with potions when he was Draco's age, Draco had always been able to see through them. There had been many other side-effects, but this… one of the most pronounced. And the others… Well, the others didn't matter so much.

The painting of the previous school healer had been made to look like a blank wall, which in itself was rather suspicious seeing as all the walls were covered with either portraits of past healers or shelves of potions. He walked up to the painting, and surprised that it could be seen, the man inside jumped to attention and barked sharply:

"Password!" Draco thought with a slight frown on his face. Knowing Poppy Pomfrey, who had no imagination to speak of, what would he have chosen as the password? Something so obvious that no one would have thought of it. He was going out on a limb, but…

"Harry's room, private." To his disbelief, the portrait salute and the piece of wall opened up to reveal a hallway. Draco was at a loss for words. Pomfrey really was dull!

He walked down the corridor until he reached the door which he had been looking for. On a plaque, it stated:

Name: _Harry James Potter_

Age: _Sixteen_

Injuries: _Internal bleeding, slashed throat, stab wounds, scratches, bruises, mental. _

Allowed Visitors?: _Yes. Currently Visiting are Hermione Granger, Oliver Wood (inside), Draco Malfoy (outside)_

Draco was surprised to see that it had his name listed as visitor. He had always thought that he would be listed as someone who was not to be let in. Apparently not. He pushed against the door and frowned deeply. The door wouldn't budge. After struggling with the door for a while, he decided to listen at the door for sounds that anything was wrong. When he heard nothing, he instantly grew nervous and decided to try and disarm the door. He whispered _Alohomora_ and when it didn't work, he knew there was something wrong. If Granger wanted privacy, a simple locking charm would have told everyone that she did not want to admit any more visitors.

This spell was mainly used to lock Quidditch cases to stop the Bludgers from escaping, which they would do if only restrained by straps. Granger was not into Quidditch and it was unlikely that she had the power to cast the spell. He however, had the power to disarm it. It was really easy with practice, and all Quidditch players could do it by their fifth year. This was slightly disconcerting if you thought about it. Then he realised that Professor Wood, the assistant Quidditch Teacher was in there as well. A sense of foreboding crept over him, and he debated whether it was worth it for to go in, when obviously something was not right. But he remembered his grandmother's words.

'_When you care, you care, and you should do so wholeheartedly.'_

With newfound strength, he whispered _Finite Incantatem _to the door, and not only did the lock click, the Silencing charm was dropped as well. He heard strange grunts coming from inside, and his brow furrowed. What was going on? Should he go in? But it didn't take him long to figure it out. Pansy had said that Potter had been raped. There were grunts of pleasure coming from the room. The grunts were coming from an older man. Professor Wood was quite a bit older than them. He plays Quidditch. There was a Quidditch locking charm on the door. Professor Wood was… raping Harry. Which meant that Granger was in trouble too.

He growled as the grunts became faster, closer together _crescendo! stopped._, and he slammed the door so hard against the wall that the hinges cracked. What he saw disgusted him. Hermione was lying unconscious in a spreading pool of blood and vomit. From his Muggle Studies class, he knew that he had to put her in the recovery position in case she was sick again. Once he had done this, his eyes travelled over to the bed, where Wood was fighting to regain control of his body.

He was lying on top of Harry, whose face was pale and sickly-looking. He looked so frail, naked under the sheets, beneath the Quidditch toned body of the Professor. Draco looked at Granger. Had she been forced to watch this happen? For once in his life, Draco felt truly sorry for Hermione Granger, and he made a promise to himself that from now on, she would have his utmost respect. As long as she didn't spout any of that bible crap to him.

Before he could dwell on this any longer, an alarm went off in his head. It was an insistent ringing, like bell had been rung right next to his ear. It was agony and he knew why. Whenever a witch or wizard was dying, they sent out an alarm to try and get people to help them. The more powerful the wizard, the stronger the alarm. And Harry was anything but weak magically speaking, despite his frailty of body. The alarm lent power to whoever heard it so that they could do everything they could to help the dying.

Either to treat them, or to quicken their passage to death if the wound was fatal. When it faded a little, he realised why it had gone off. Harry's heartbeat was speeding up, and it seemed like he was having some kind of fit. His once motionless body was now jerking around like a puppet on a string. Draco could hear voices outside the door. Draco was confident that any second now, they would come in and expose Wood as the rapist he was. Wood looked panicked. Scrambling off the bed, he cast a disillusionment charm on his head and looking towards Draco, he stated:

"If you tell them I'm here, I'll kill him. I swear to God, I will snap his fucking neck." Draco nodded, not wanting to speak to this abomination of a human being, but grinned slightly. Had Wood even noticed that there was a charm on the door for that sort of thing? He walked over to the bed calmly and stroked Harry's cheek.

"It's okay Harry. Shush, calm down." He whispered. He then bent down to his ear and said, "I'll get revenge for you and Granger, Harry. Wood will regret the day he was born by the time I'm through with him." Having always been taught that a true promise is best sealed with a kiss, Draco leant down and did just that. He leant down and kissed Harry, who had stopped thrashing, softly on the cheek.

That was when the door burst open to reveal Dumbledore, Pomfrey, Snape and a group of Aurors. He was about to alert them to the presence of the rapist but then remembered what Wood had said.

"_If you tell them I'm here, I'll kill him. I swear to God, I will snap his fucking neck." _He couldn't tell them that Wood was here. Then what could he do? He was spared by Dumbledore stepping forward. His usually twinkling eyes were filled with disbelief and sorrow.

"Draco, my boy… _What have you done?_" Draco was confused. What had _he _done? He hadn't done anything at all. Then slowly, he looked down at his hands and saw the blood on them for the first time. It was staining his hands, some of it turning black by now, some still dripping onto the carpeted floor. It was everywhere, under his nails, on his arms, everywhere. It was from when he had helped Hermione, of course. And it was on Harry too, from when he had stroked his cheek.

Two Aurors came forward. He knew them to be Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks, his _cousin_. Their faces held only contempt for him. Each of the faces he scanned only looked at him with disgust.

"Nymph, you don't think I did this do you?" She averted her eyes. Draco grew frantic.

"Uncle Sev?" The eyes he saw were not that of his uncle but of a man about to send a murderer to his death.

"Professor Dumbledore?" His eyes were the coldest he had ever seen on a living being before. Draco opened his mouth to tell them to look to the door, to see that Wood was in the room, but he had forgotten that he had slammed the door open. Oh Merlin, the plaque was broken, a large crack right through where the names were supposed to be…

And so, Draco hardened. He refused to show his emotions in front of these people, who even though he had known them for many years, did not trust him. His Malfoy sneer came into place.

"Fine. Believe what you wish. But when you see that I'm innocent, I hope you won't be able to sleep at night, thinking of what you've done." Kingsley stepped up to him, obviously intending to grab his arm, but Draco moved backwards. He first walked over to Hermione, who was beginning to stir and kissed her forehead. A seal for a promise, of course. She opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion. He smiled, and then got up. Every gaze was locked on him as he travelled the room. He stopped at Harry's bed and knelt down beside it.

"Goodbye Harry. I never got the chance to tell you about how I feel about you, and I suppose I never will. I hope you can hear me. Harry Potter… I…"

"That's enough Malfoy!" Snape snapped. Draco flinched. He never knew that his name could sound like such an insult.

"Yes uncle… I mean, yes sir." He stood up now, wondering what the future would now hold for him. Would he go to Azkaban, doomed to spend the rest of his days having his happy memories sucked away by Dementors? Even if they were to do right by him, and find him innocent, would he be accepted back into the school? _IwillnotcryIWILLNOTCRY_ His arms were grabbed roughly by two Aurors he didn't know the names of while his cousin read out the charges.

"D-Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are being arrested for the r-rape of one Harry James Potter, and the attempted murder of one Hermione Anne Granger. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in the Wizengamot courtroom." His feet dragged on the floor, but the Aurors pushed him along. When they reached the door Draco turned back, where Hermione was struggling to get away from Pomfrey, who was fussing over her. He sighed, and walked into the hallway.

_I suppose that's what I get for caring, grandma. _


	5. Chapter Five

**WIASAD **

Draco woke in a small cell, its stone walls covered with moss, and dry… black stuff. On closer inspection, he saw that it was a handprint. He didn't want to think about where the print had come from because he knew it was his, so he turned closed his eyes, feeling a prickling feeling in the back of his eyes. _No, Draco, you mustn't cry. That will let them know they've won. A Malfoy _never_ cries, not even in public, _a voice inside his head stated. It sounded awfully like his father.

But, Draco reasoned, they had already beaten him. His trial had gone awfully with no one to defend him.He had thought that it would be easy for him to prove his innocence, but everyone was against him.

It now seemed that the most hated person in the entire world. Including Voldemort, if the guards were any kind of reliable source. Which, come to think of it, he didn't think they were. He was now in Azkaban, and the things the guards did to keep them from escaping… Draco almost wished that the Dementors were back, but they had all been destroyed after being deemed dangerous to the general public. After… no, not now. Not _here_.

The guards came everyday, and did horrid things to 'keep the prisoners in line'. No one had escaped during their time at Azkaban, and no one asked how they did it. The answer? By breaking them. They put doubts into the minds of every single person and made them insecure about something; told them that they could only get better if they listened to the guards. They had been subjecting Draco to it for two months, and Draco was trying _so hard_ not to give in, but it was difficult, keeping your chin up, day after day. For those who had been there for more than a year, they couldn't even sum up the energy to get out of bed. Tearing his thoughts away, he instead thought about his trial.

_Draco was pushed along a corridor and through a set of doors. The room he entered was completely dark, apart from a spotlight on one chair in the middle of the room. He was forced into this chair and chains snaked around him, trapping him in place. Now he was there, he could see that there were figures sitting high up, as the light from where he was sitting let him see them. He could see the Weasley__s, looking at him with pure hatred, he could see Dumbledore and all the ministry officials his father had once had influence over looking at him with a kind of disbelieving horror, but the one that made him cry was Snape. The man he had regarded as his closest relative for years was staring blankly at him, with no emotion, as if his going to Azkaban would have no effect on his life._

"_Mr. Malfoy, I would ask that you please stop crying." Draco was not crying! _Malfoys do not cry._ He just had a little something in his eye. Oh if father could see him now. " It will not influence our decision in any way. Now, the Wizengamot is in session for the trial of one Draco Malfoy. His crimes are as follows: The rape of Harry Potter, and the attempted murder of Hermione Granger. What do you plead?"_

"_Not guilty." Draco stated, adamant that he would defend himself to the end. Fudge smirked, and said,_

"_We have a witness that will prove you to be guilty before you say anything in your defence. Could Oliver Wood please step up to the stand?" Draco gasped. That bastard… That bloody bastard…_

"_But Wood was the one who did it!" A gasp rose up from the crowd._

"_Really now Malfoy. Mr. Wood and his family are upstanding members of our community," Draco heard the unspoken words: "unlike you and yours", "and I will not have you slight him in this manner! I'm sorry Mr. Wood. Could you please give us your version of events?" Oliver smiled, his bottom lip quivering slightly, and he nodded._

"_I don't really like to talk about it though…"_

"_Don't worry Mr. Wood, take your time."_

"_Thank you sir. Well, I had come to check up on Harry, as it was my turn as a member of staff to, when I found that I couldn't open the door. I found that a powerful bludger charm had been placed on it and… and I disarmed it. When I did, I found strange noises coming from the room, and, and I opened the door to find Draco Malfoy… r-raping Harry." He paused here to sniff, and Draco sneered. It wasn't doing anything for his reputation, but he wasn't really thinking of that now. _

_Wood continued. "I saw that he was… spent, so I took my chance to help Hermione. She was covered in blood and sick. I couldn't believe anyone could do this to another person. So I helped her but when I tried to help Harry, Malfoy threatened me. But that was when I heard footsteps. Thinking it was one of Malfoy's friends come to help him finish off Harry, I cast an invisibility charm on myself to hide myself, but it was really the Aurors. I revealed myself after they left with Malfoy, and told Professor Dumbledore the whole story." He brought out a tissue and then proceeded to sob into it. Draco stared. Had all these people been Gryffindors or something? Surely they couldn't believe him!_

"_As you can see, all evidence points to Draco Malfoy. We have another eye-witness, but unluckily, she is too traumatised to give evidence. So instead, we have another person to call to the stand. Would Pansy Parkinson please step up?" Draco fumed. That evil little witch! That stupid back-stabbing wench! She looked like she was crying, but Draco knew it was all an act._

"_Well it all started a little while ago. Draco kept disappearing in the middle of the night and he never told us where he was going. When he came back, he would always be covered in blood, and he would always have this weird satisfied expression on his face, like he'd done something he really enjoyed. I realise now that the blood was Potter's and he was satisfied because, because he had raped him…" Pansy ran off crying in great heaving sobs, and Draco resisted the urge to spit at her as she went past. She knew why… She _knew_ why he came back with… Ugh. That girl was venom._

"_As you can see," Fudge started, "Malfoy has been proven to be most certainly guilty by our witnesses. But I am a fair man. Have you anything to say in your defence?" _

"_Of course! I didn't do a single one of those things! I only came to see Harry because I was worried!"_

"_And we are supposed to believe that… a _Malfoy_ would be concerned about Harry Potter?"_

"_What are you implying, sir?" Fudge coughed._

"_You know full well that your father, after his death, of course, was found to be guilty of many crimes and –"_

"_Don't speak of papa that way!" Draco practically screamed, then realised what he'd said. He blanched and forced himself to calm down._

"_I'll take Veritaserum if you need me to! Anything… please…There was a despairing note in his voice by the end."_

"_Now, Malfoy, you know as well as I do that Veritaserum cannot be given safely to wizards under their majority. Let's have no more on that.__ Will the Wizengamot please vote?" The hands voted, and Draco counted each with mounting despair. Sure, there were those that voted for him to be released, but they were not enough. Azkaban??_

"_So Malfoy, you have a choice. Will you admit to your deeds, or will you continue to lie?" Draco considered. If he went along with them and got a reduced sentence, he would be out earlier but everyone would hate him and remember his as a rapist. But if he did the opposite and maybe one day got a retrial he would have everyone bowing at his feet, and bending over backwards to apologise for treating him in that manner._

"_Not guilty." The chains around him loosened and Aurors came to take him away. "I'll get all of you back one day! You just wait! I'll prove it to all of you one day!" He was rather unaware that he sounded quite mad, and when he was eventually stunned, he went limp and slipped into a welcome black void._

Draco sighed. He missed Hogwarts, he missed Harry, but most of all, he missed his uncle. Hogwarts had been a great place, full of new opportunities, but he hadn't taken them seriously enough, and now everything was ruined. Harry had been a crush, but at the end, he hadn't known him very well, and he was just that. A heavy crush. That was it. He'd ruined his life for 'calf-love' as his father had called it.

But Snape, he was close family. He had known Draco's family from way before Draco was born! And how quickly he had turned on his nephew, like they had never known each other, like Snape hadn't been the one to listen to him ranting over and over again about his family and how much he hated them. And he had actually believed all those lies; looked at him like he was dirt. It just wasn't right. And definitely not fair.

He was stopped from musing further by the sound of an unlocking door. 'No,' Draco thought. 'Not now… please.' But his prayers were not answered, and the door was opened to reveal a cheerful looking man with a heavy tome. The grin on the man's face was almost too big to be real, but Draco knew it was as fake as the colour of his guard's blonde hair. This was Nick Trayse, Draco's personal guard, and he had come to 'better' Draco, like he did every day and had done since he got here.

"How's your day been so far, Drake?" Draco winced. Merlin, he hated that name. And Trayse knew full well that all Draco did all day was stare at the walls. Or the ceiling, if he felt like a change. So, he ignored Trayse, hoping that if he left him alone for long enough, the other man would just _leave. _Fat chance of that.

"Wanna have a looksee at this book I brought with me?" _No, not particularly, _Draco thought, but it wasn't as if his thoughts made any difference. He would get shown it anyway. It was always a different book, and always, always to do with his family, a specific member every week.

Not even caring that he was being ignored, Nick continued.

"Anyway, my storybook today is called _How Lucius Malfoy ruined my life_. Doesn't it sound wondrous, Drake?" Draco scowled. How dare they desecrate the name of his father? Sure he wasn't a nice man, and he had been on Voldemort's side in the first war, but that was because he was under Imperius! Nothing he had done was his fault, and before he had died, he'd told Draco exactly how Voldemort had trapped him. He wouldn't listen to Trayse's lies.

"Once upon a time, there was a liar named Lucius Malfoy. Now, he had normal rotten upbringing consisting of…"

_How may I serve you, my lord? The Potters? Of course._

"But then he died when–" Draco was sobbing, and although his eyes were dry, that was because he'd run out of tears a long time ago. It wasn't true! It couldn't be! His papa was a brave strong man, and he would never _nobloodnotearsnonoNO! _hurt someone the way this book claimed. But… the words sounded so much like his father he could picture him saying them…

Nick came over to Draco and wrapped him up in his arms, shushing him gently, and Draco shook with loathing for the both of them. He hated this rat, so changeable in mood, somehow always managing to be whatever Draco needed when he needed it. He wanted to throw the comforting arms of him, but… surely two minutes couldn't hurt? Two minutes of feeling loved again? Even if it was from Nick? It wasn't so bad, was it? Slowly, Draco's sobs turned to sniffs and he rested his head against Trayse's shoulder.

It was only then did he notice what he was doing. With a violent yell, he pushed Trayse away and scuttled back. Oh Merlin, he felt so dirty! How could he take comfort from the man who had told him those things about his father, and about a tonne of other family members?

He lay there shivering, and Nick came down to his level and whispered in his ear,

"I'm so sorry, Drake, but its for your own betterment. How can you understand why you are rotten to the core and be rehabilitated if you don't hear what genetics have given you? Next week, we will go onto Grandmother Malfoy."

Draco froze, and he growled, his grandma was like a saint, and there wasn't a single bad thing to be found about her!

_Was there?_


	6. Chapter Six

**WIASAD**

_(set one month before previous)_**  
**

Ginny walked down the corridor, her head held in shame. She could no longer meet the eyes of any of Draco's housemates, of any of her housemates, of… Hell, she couldn't meet anyone's eyes. She was supposed to supervise all the visits, to make sure no one who wasn't meant to come in or out did. And she had let Oliver waltz in, take what he wanted and dance back out again unscathed.

Whereas Draco had been caught up in the middle for no reason and was now in jail. And Ginny was too much of a wuss to do anything about it. She may have been able to talk to people about sex without blushing, but she was still a little girl really, one who didn't want to get into trouble because she withheld the truth for so long. Everyone just assumed that she was still upset about what had happened to Harry, but really, she had pushed that to a small corner in her mind, where she could deal with it a little day by day.

With her head down, she never noticed anything, and it was unconsciously that she made her way to Hermione's room. The girl had been recovering well, but still, something seemed to be bothering her, and Ginny's unconscious mind, the one that hadn't been reduced to a quivering pile of nothingness was determined to talk to the girl. Her feet pattered into the hospital wing, and she walked towards a bed with the curtains drawn about it. Ginny hesitated.

_Should I be doing this Ginevra? I mean, she could be asleep._

_**Of course you should Ginny. It's the least you could do. After all, you got her in the bloody mess in the first place. And if she's asleep, well then, tough luck.**_

_Okay…_

Ginny walked forward and slowly opened the curtains, where she saw Hermione staring blankly ahead at nothing. When Ginny cleared her throat, Hermione blinked and turned her head slowly to watch the younger girl. Her eyes were full of disappointment.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Hermione croaked. She took a sip of water from the glass sitting at her bedside table and resumed staring at the fifth year Gryffindor. Ginny looked down, unable to look at the girl who she had indirectly caused so much pain to.

"I'm sorry Hermione, it's just that…. That, I got so scared of being questioned that I just couldn't say. I'm so-" Hermione snorted.

"It's not me who you should be apologising to. Draco Malfoy is in _Azkaban _because of you! Who knows what they're doing to him there? I'm not the one who needs the apology. He is. And even so, you say you're sorry, but I don't see you trying to rectify your mistake at all. In fact, you don't seem to be doing anything these days. You don't even help out in here anymore, and you're training to become a healer! What use is a healer who won't heal?" Ginny broke down into sobs.

"Hermione, I'm sorry! But I don't know what to do, or how to fix this! If I could, I would, believe me." Hermione's eyes softened, and she pulled Ginny into a hug.

"Don't worry. I know what to do. Now listen to me okay? What we're going to do is…."

Ginny walked out of the Hospital Wing with new feelings of hope. It was not too late to fix all of this. She was going to make everything she had done right again. Draco would not have to rot in Azkaban for much longer. Then, the smile dropped off her face. She was going to visit Harry.

Walking into his room, she pulled a seat up to his bed and smiled weakly, already feeling tears building up in the corners of her eyes. If she had only told someone that Harry was being abused, none of this would have happened. Harry wouldn't be so close to death… She wiped a lone tear from her cheek and grasped one of Harry's hands. She knew better than to will him to wake up, as she knew it would not work. Instead she just rested her head on his chest, reassuring herself that his heart was still beating, that he was still alive.

She stayed like that for some time, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. Finally, she decided that she needed to get things organised, and began to rise. Her breath hitched as she looked down upon one of her best friends, and she finally let herself cry, letting all the guilt and pain she had built up since this all started go. She was so absorbed in her pain, that she didn't even notice Harry's heartbeat get slightly quicker. Nor did she notice the slight flickering of his eyelids. She failed to even notice the opening and closing of his mouth until…

"Ginny? Why are you crying?" Ginny instantly stopped. Then she gathered Harry into a bone-crushing hug, babbling randomly. Harry looked on confusedly at her, but hugged her back anyway.

**WIASaD**

Severus Snape was shocked to hear the news that Potter had woken up. Truth be told, he had thought that the boy would eventually die in his sleep. But then again, he hadn't really cared either way. Although Severus had come to respect the idiotic child that plagued his thoughts, he still hated him. But no one deserved what Draco Malfoy had put him through.

He didn't like to believe that it was his own nephew, but what else was there to do? Who else could it have been? No one else could have gotten access to that ward, as the entrance was very well hidden and only someone very clever could have discovered the password. Then again, his nephew was a very clever boy. Severus shook his head. No, the boy was his nephew no longer. He had done something unforgivable.

Severus walked into Harry's room to find him sitting up in bed, chatting animatedly to the Weasley girl. Since he had found out what had happened, Harry had refused to speak to anyone who had been involved in Draco Malfoy's going to jail. And when he looked at them, it was with loathing in his eyes. But because he would not speak to them, they could not understand why. They didn't even know what Ginevra had to do with all of this.

When Harry realised Snape was in the room, he shut up instantly. The things he and Ginny were discussing were top-secret, and not for a traitor to know. Harry had learned that there were a lot of traitors in this school. Many of which were people who had he had liked and respected. All of that was now gone. He had now been awake for a month, and Hermione, Ginny and his had been working diligently since then, non-stop. But there were things that hindered their progress. Harry's daily medication took up three hours of their time, morning, afternoon and night.

And then there was the therapy. At first Harry had been adamant that he didn't need it, but then the nightmares began again, as he remembered everything that Oliver had ever done to him. So they had brought in a specialist from Mungo's not being able to risk the whole story abut Harry being leaked out if he left the safety of the school.

"Miss Weasley. I will have to ask you to leave now. You may hinder your friend's recovery if you stay." Severus said this only to get rid of the brat. He hated the looks that she and Granger were always giving him. What exactly had he done? Saved their best friend from being raped again? He didn't understand it. He watched Weasley give Harry a kiss on the cheek before she left the room, brushing past him Snape roughly.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for rudeness to a teacher," He called after her as he too left the room, but holding the door open for a new person.

Harry's therapist came in the door. She was renowned for helping mentally disturbed people, and was the one that had helped the Longbottoms so greatly. Harry didn't consider himself to be mentally disturbed or insane, so he didn't really appreciate the specialist. But he supposed that if this Grelda Wines could stop the nightmares then he would put up with her.

"So Harry," She smiled at him. "How are you today?" Grelda might have seemed nice the first time you met her, but she always liked to get down to the nitty-gritty stuff easily. And she knew that asking that question would make Harry release everything he had built up inside.

"I feel fucking awful. It's been a month since I woke up, and I still can't get rid of the images in my head. I can't sleep normally in case I have the nightmares so am now very doped up on Dreamless Sleep Potion," Here Grelda frowned and stopped to take notes. It wouldn't be good to get him addicted on the potions he was taking.

"I feel like killing myself, or at least _something_! I feel guilty for putting myself through this, sometimes I just cry for hours and I can't stop," He was crying now. "And most of all, I feel angry with myself. Because even though he put me through shit, and tried to kill me, raped me… twice, once when I was fucking asleep, beat me and generally abused me, I still love him!

"I remember him smiling at other people and all I want to do is crawl in a hole or slap him round the face! I'm the only one he should smile at! But that's just it. I don't want to see him again, ever. He ruined my life; he's made it so I'm on medication for the rest of my life… I hate him!" Harry screamed the last part, through his tears. He hadn't meant to say so much! Oh, what if she was disgusted with him? If she didn't want to help him anymore? He didn't even know why she bothered - he couldn't even say _his_ name anymore!

After his shoulders had stopped shaking in the bed, he looked up though his eyes to see Grelda sitting perfectly still in her seat, unfazed. Then she smiled at him.

"Well done Harry. The first thing everyone has to do is let it all off their chests. A lot of people don't do as well; they want to bottle it up, but that just makes people do bad things to themselves. But you do still have a way to go. First off, these conflicting issues you have about this man. Weigh up all the good things and all of the bad. That should make you sure about what you feel.

"Make a list for me. All the good things he's ever done and all the bad. Remember, I won't judge you, no matter what your choice. But you have to promise me Harry. If the bad outweighs the good, you must end this for good."


End file.
